


My Angel.

by davidacorn



Category: Bandom, Blink-182
Genre: F/M, M/M, okay so this is short sweet and angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:26:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davidacorn/pseuds/davidacorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom tells the story of his angel, Mark Hoppus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Angel.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is short but it's angsty (which I didn't intend). I also wrote this within less than like 16 hours. But about the fic, there's like 3 songs mentioned in it- Why Can't I Be You? by The Cure, which is a kickass song and you should listen to it, and then All The Small Things, There Is, and No, It Isn't. Which I figured were all universal, so yeah

When I imagined meeting my angel, I didn't imagine it to be my (now ex-) girlfriend's brother. It was late one day and she decided to introduce us, and there was instant chemistry. I like to think that it was more than just friends from the moment his ocean blue eyes locked with mine. My immediate thought was, _Fuck. You're screwed._  
And then within a couple weeks later, I was crying on his shoulder. It was really late and my parents were fighting like they always did, and I ran outside in the pouring rain and ran and ran and ran until I realized I ran to the only other place I knew in Poway- Poway High. And then my angel, none other than Mark Hoppus, saw me and pulled over to pick me up.  
“Okay, Tom, what the fuck-”  
I cut Mark off before he could laugh at me. At this point I was too exhausted from running and hearing the screaming, so I just talked my head off. “My parents fucking hate each other Mark. It's like living in that house is breathing in ammonia and bleach, pure toxicity that I can't rid myself of. My dad’s cheating on my mom, my mom is complaining too much about him to make him want to stay. Every night that they get like this I just want to run, do something else, and tonight, I did. And you found me. So thank you. I'm sorry I got your car all wet.”  
Mark pulled the car over from him driving, then looked at me with his ocean eyes that almost dimmed the world on this 2:12 AM rainy day. “You know, Tom, I'll always be here for you. And I'm really sorry, that’s shitty. You can stay at my place tonight, god I'm sorry. I had no idea.”  
“It's okay, Mark. I'm making my way. I'm just glad you were here.” I stuttered, taking my wet shirt off. I hated the way wet fabric clung to my body, especially my chest. It just felt weird, like cold spandex, everywhere.  
“Always.”  
And then Mark was always there for the little things, my angel.  
I wrote a lot about him, short poems, full songs with guitar riffs, the whole nine yards. I'd doodle angel wings everywhere, I was really screwed. And I didn't ever know if it was admiration or love, something more than a best friend love.  
He was there after I sat in the driveway as my dad moved his furniture out. He came over a couple hours later because I told him I needed time to reposture myself, and we went to an ice cream shop a little out of the way from Poway and went on a nice drive. He made me listen to The Cure the whole time, and he turned on Why Can't I Be You? about three times and screamed the lyrics, every. fucking. time.  
I don't know what came of me when we were pulled over the one time he was singing, but I lingered my gaze on every movement his face made, every movement he made. I leaned over and pulled his face into mine, kissing him slowly. He seemed shocked at first, and then leaned into it more, as if he was hesitant to kiss me but wanted to anyway.  
_You make me, make me, make me make me hungry for you,_ Robert Smith’s voice almost growled in the background, Mark pulling me into the kiss more as the music was playing. I was surprised he kissed me this long, I never knew if he had feelings for me, I just kissed him on a whim. But everything seemed to fall into place at this moment. I could still taste the cotton candy ice cream on his lips, all in his mouth, everywhere. It was almost intoxicating.  
“Fuck, do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you?” The blonde finally gasped out, ending the kiss with full pink cheeks.  
“Too long?” I chuckled, then turned to look out the window as embarrassment flooded through me like a river. Did Mark and I really just kiss? Are people worthy of kissing angels?  
“Tom,” Mark mumbled as he set a hand on my shoulder, almost guilt tripping me into looking at him. “It's okay. I told you, I'd always be here for you. I promise you on that.”  
I nodded softly, then within a few seconds I looked at his lips and felt hungry again.  
“Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,” I spoke softly as I inched my face closer to his, encasing our lips again. This time, Mark’s first reaction against my lips was a smile instead of some form of gasp.  
That wasn’t the last time I kissed him that night, but that was the one night that convinced me that there at least should be a God, because he blessed me with someone named Mark Hoppus.  
And not much changed afterwards, hiding our secret relationship behind Scott was one thing, but nothing else was super different. He was always there for me, for whenever we got too drunk and I had to puke in the toilet, to when he held me late at night when I had nightmares (which I had, I never shook them even growing up. It was more annoying than terrifying), to when I cried, to when I told him about who I was mentally and how many times I wished I wanted to die. I got that way a lot, but Mark, he was always there.  
And he promised me he always would be.  
I told him one night on the Enema tour that I had imagined meeting my angel many ways.  
When I was clinging to life after getting hit by a car,  
When I was just taking a stroll through the hallway and ran into someone who dropped their books,  
When I was at my first party.  
And then, a couple weeks later he met a girl named Skye.  
I guess that was the day he realized, I had met my angel years prior, but he had met his.  
I cried and cried and cried whenever I was alone, whenever I showered- anywhere away from Travis and anywhere especially away from Mark. He didn't break up with me, not yet, but the moment he looked into her eyes I knew I was done for. I knew I was just Tom. Just the bandmate. Just a dream Mark had one night, a dream he fabricated into reality and then let go.  
Part of me at the time wanted to understand, because he knew I wrote All The Small Things about Jen, a girl I had a thing with in high school, but I told him we were just friends and I was reminiscing on good times we had. He was really upset with me that night, but I told him he wrote about girls too and this one wasn’t any different. But, Mark made it all different. He stopped being so close.  
I started counting the times when my angel wasn’t there.  
The day Mark met Skye.  
The fight that made me separate from Take Off Your Pants and Jacket.

I had eventually fallen for Jennifer, as Mark fell for Skye. But I always had love for Mark, even though he didn't love me the same way anymore.  
The night before I got married, he wasn’t there for me.  
Or the night I made Box Car Racer.  
Or the day I called him to tell him that There Is became a hit and that I wanted to thank him, because without him I wouldn’t have had Jen there. His phone was dead.

I guess at some point, I let Jen become my angel.

He wasn’t there the night I told him I was leaving blink.  
He told me that I give up on things I loved too easily, and I remember saying, “Yeah, says the guy who gave up on me. Where’s my angel, Mark?”  
He left the room.

Then there was one night my angel’s voice haunted me, but my angel wasn’t there.  
December 13, 2005.

No, It Isn't blasted in my ears, I locked myself in my spare bedroom away from Jen and Ava, without any warning. Jen eventually slammed the door so hard I had to let her in, and I fell in her arms as Mark’s voice droned in the background.  
“He did it, Jen. He did it, he wrote the song about me.” At this point, all that came out of me was tears and sounds of pain. I stayed in Jen’s arms until she finally made sure there were no more weapons, and then, at my request- left me alone for the rest of the night.

I wanted to do anything I could in response.  
Tell him I never meant to make him feel this way, that I never meant to hurt him.

And then I realized,  
Divine creatures don't get hurt by mortals.

And that regardless of what I did, my angel would never come back to me.

People always say even the devil was once an angel, don't they?


End file.
